Back To Paris
by inntrigue
Summary: "Calm down, he reprimanded himself. It's just a girl. Just Ariadne. Even though, as he swung open the door, he knew, no, she was so much more than just a girl." Ariadne/Arthur, A/A. Inception one-shot. Rated T for implied situations.


**Back To Paris  
****The writer does not own Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ellen Page, the characters they portray, or Inception.**

_Rien ne se peut comparer a' Paris._  
**Nothing can compare to Paris.**

_-Deschamps, Eustache_

_Part1._

Arthur had never liked telling people a lot about himself. He was a secretive guy – he preferred to remain cloaked in mystery. He was a man of few words. There was not much that even Dom Cobb, his closest acquaintance (Arthur never liked using the word 'friend') could bring out of him. With him, it was always yes or no. Go or stay. You made a decision and you stuck to it. Until Ariadne showed up.

Ariadne was like, a breath of fresh air. A ray of sunshine in the winter. A butterfly landing on your cheek. Whatever. Arthur could not find the right phrase to describe her. Right from the minute she walked into the basement, Arthur knew that things were going to get difficult. The way her small body seemed to occupy so much _space_ in the room, the way her smile made his eyes flick up from his research, the way her eyes flashed when you spoke to her. Arthur knew that staying away from Ariadne would be difficult – but he didn't know it would be _this_ difficult.

There was a rule enveloping the group, a rule that Arthur had never had problems with before – they could not keep contact or acknowledge that they knew each other until the next job arose. It could mean weeks, it could mean months, it could mean years. After the Fischer case, the group had exchanged final glances on the airplane, and disappeared into the crowd at the airport. Arthur had flashed a quick glance in Ariadne's direction. She looked exhausted, and he vaguely remembered the first time he had gone so deep under. The group, he knew, would be happy to get some rest, a peaceful, _dreamless_ sleep, a luxury to them. The customs officer called to him, so he turned his head again for one final look, but she had already gone.

_Part2. _

Two days later, Arthur found himself on a plane back to Paris. It felt good for him, the feeling of flying back home, where his things were, where the streets and people and food was familiar to him. And home was where he felt that he didn't need to hide anything. He sat on the plane, he relaxed into the plush of a first-class seat and as he rested and sipped wine, his thoughts turned to Ariadne. He played out in his mind the scene where they had sat together in the lobby of the hotel, nearer than he had expected. Just the closeproximity of their bodies was sending him insane, and he knew he had needed to distract himself by something, anything – he had focused on the projections, and when she had spoken up about them staring at her he had said that first thing that had come to his mind.

"_Quick, give me a kiss." _

He wished he could have regretted that move, but he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried. Her face against his sent shocks that he had never experienced before sizzling down his whole being. And once again, try as he could, he couldn't forget it either.

_Part 3. _

When the plane landed, Arthur opened the door to his apartment. He was going to find work in the meantime he thought. It would not be difficult. Just a simple teaching job or perhaps an internship. He did not seek a job for money, but for a change in routine. He wanted to try and live life like a normal 25 year old. Not the point man of a small illegal corporation. He dropped his leather bag on the bed before him. He had only carried a few pieces of clothing with him – some pajamas, some underwear, a shirt or two and trousers. Arthur was not vain. He started undressing, changing from his suit to a pair of dark jeans with a light blue collared shirt. He ran a comb through his short brown hair, and left the house with only his wallet in his pocket. He padded the cobbled streets of Paris, his sharp eyes noticing the things that had changed, and the things that had stayed the same. He found a café that he frequented, pulled up a chair and inhaled the strong beverage. The cool brush of the morning still swept strongly over his cheeks and he closed his eyes and imagined the street scene that would come later on once afternoon lunch rush came. The stylish ladies in their jackets and high-heeled boots, the men in their shirts and ties, all moving and rushing off to their own destinations. Arthur liked imagining things before they happened. It was like he was dreaming again, building the world for himself.

"Can I help you with anything? Sir?" Arthur snapped open his eyes. "Pardón?" He replied instinctively until he realized the voice was not speaking in French. "Sorry." He repeated in English and turned his head, almost dying when his eyes immediately processed the face before him. Ariadne.

He caught himself before he let out a cry of surprise. _Of course, she studies in Paris. _"I don't need anything right now, but thank you anyway." He said, noticing the way that her eyes took in him – much like the first time they had met. _Why is she here? _He yearned to ask, but the rules that they had sworn by refused him that right. He too, noticed the way she bit her bottom lip – something she only did when nervous. "All right then." She spoke. "Sorry to have interrupted." And she turned on her heel, her signature pale pink scarf peeking out of her back pocket underneath her apron. He reached for his mug to drag another gulp of coffee, but it was already all gone. He scuffled in his pocket for a pen, scribbled words on his napkin, and dropped it at her feet as he stood to leave, praying that he would not get into much trouble.

_Part 4. _

Arthur paced uncomfortably in his apartment, tidying up everything that appeared out of place, his perfectionist nature sending him into a mad frenzy. If she had indeed read the napkin, and if she indeed trusted him enough to come to his apartment, perhaps they could risk meeting up, just once, to just talk – about things that were unresolved. A ring at his door sent his hand straight into his pocket as he fingered his red die. _Calm down, Art, _he reprimanded himself. _It's just a girl. Just Ariadne. _Even though, as he swung open the door, he knew, no, she was so much more than _just_ a girl. "Ariadne." He spoke as her small frame filled his doorway. "Come in." He smiled at her, noticing her strange smile back which said too many things at once.

He closed the door with a click and bolted it. "It was surprising seeing you today." He gestured to a sofa in which she sat down, and picked up a cup of hot tea that he had prepared. As he handed it to her, he bit his lip, feeling the brush of her hand against his.

"Yeah." She finally spoke, her lips forming a perfect circle as she blew on her tea. "I didn't expect you to come back to Paris, I expected you to… go home."

"I actually live here."

"Oh." She had replied hesitantly. "Eames? Yusuf? Saito? Are they in Paris?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I never spoke to them. I wasn't supposed to speak to _you_."

"Mm." her eyebrows raised.

"How have you been, Ari?" He asked because he was concerned and because he wanted to say anything else but that.

"Fine." She answered weakly. "I haven't been dreaming though." She stated matter-of-factly. "But I suppose that is to be expected."

"Yes."

"Why did you want me here, Arthur?" Ariadne finally asked. She sounded pained and immediately he was overcome with a sense of guilt. "Because, _really_. I barely spoke to you after the plane ride, you never even said goodbye at the airport-"

"I looked for you, you were gone!" Arthur let his cool façade drop and he angrily snapped back at her, immediately regretting it once her face fell. "I'm sorry." He apologized.

"Whatever." She spat back at him. "Seriously, Arthur. I want to know what we're doing, because nothing's really happening at all, is it? We're nothing."

"_They're still looking at us." She turned her face to Arthur, eyes accusatory and somehow brighter than before. _

"Ariadne. You're not _nothing_." Arthur backtracked, wondering when this conversation had gotten taken from his hands.

"Well yeah? _Kissing_ me, Arthur? And then brushing it off? What was that? I'm sorry if I thought that meant something!"

"Look, Ari." Arthur stood up in anger. "I never said that that was nothing." He clenched his fists, and struggled with himself before finally speaking the following sentence. "How do you know that didn't mean something to me too?"

"Well you sure as hell don't act like it!" She stood up too, grabbing her bag off the couch. "This was a waste of time." She muttered, heading for the door.

"Ari!" Arthur, exasperated, finally grabbed her by the shoulders, and kissed her fast and hard. It was unexpected, so he felt her resist against his grip. But it was so much more than the dream, and he felt her fall limp under his hands. He too, felt his knees give way under him, and like cliché lovers he pressed her against his door. _Paris, what a better place to connect once again? _

When he finally stopped kissing her, he ran his tongue over his lips, took her small hands in his, and looked her right in the eyes. "You were never nothing to me, Ari. You were always _something_ the moment you walked into the warehouse. You were always _something_ and I had so many problems because of how much you were more than just a _something_"

"Are we going to get in trouble?" She stated simply after a while, looking down at her hands in his.

"This is Paris. Anything can happen." He took her chin in his palm, making sure she looked at him with those brilliant eyes again. "They should understand."

"Arthur." Ariadne spoke his name, and his heart danced to hear it come from her lips. And she scuffled in her pocket, producing the napkin with his address on it. She pressed it into his hands, and then turned it over so that the words: _I love you_ were scrawled on the back. He took the napkin in his hands, let it fall to the ground, and kissed her again, walking her slowly away from the door and back to the couch.

"Nothing can compare." He spoke slowly against her mouth. "Nothing can compare to Paris." And then there was no more speaking.

"_It was worth a shot." He looked away from her, secretly thrilled. _

**[A/N]  
I understand the characters are a little bit strange nearer to the end, but this fic is strictly unedited and I just wanted to write something to let off steam today. **

**Please leave me a review and let me know what you think, I watched Inception and immediately fell in love with this two. They're adorable, but the movie left so much hanging on their relationship! All we can do is hope for an Inception Two. **

**Thanks for reading!**


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